Two days later, the sky in Wyoming was a washed-out blue, and the cold air carried a hint of sweetness.
Three pitch-black Ford F-350 heavy-duty pickups, with their massive chrome grilles reflecting the dazzling sunlight, formed a small convoy, slowly driving into the Giant Stone River Heritage Ranch with an imposing aura.
Even Aliya's brothers, who were used to grand scenes in Montana, couldn't help but slow down as they passed through the main entrance made of gigantic stones and logs, each showing a solemn expression.
"My God..." Garrett, the second brother sitting in the passenger seat of the first truck, a burly and fiery-tempered pig farmer, rolled down the window, letting the cold wind pour in, but he didn't mind.
